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The Summoning
Greg closed the ancient grimoire, grumbling. “How can I summon an evil demon to destroy our enemies when all the spells are in Latin?”
Becky squeezed his shoulder. “Didn’t you take a language in high school? Just try that!”
Nodding, he lit the black candle and waved it over the bucket of goat blood. “Vayamos a la biblioteca, señor demonio!”
My cursor had stopped working.
I thought there was something wrong with my keyboard...until it started typing by itself.
Not so fast, it wrote. You can't get rid of me that easily...
I furiously pressed my backspace but nothing was working.
You keep changing my character. The font kept changing rapidly. But you just LOVE to write my death scene, don't you?
The screen began to glitch, colours flashing and breaking before my very eyes.
If I can't exist...then no one can.
A single textbox stood in the middle of all the chaos.
Delete work?
"NO!"
>Confirm
It was the god of beauty who proved to be the catalyst for the Age of Temples.
Is that surprising to you? I mean… how much trouble could the patron of artists, epicureans and very attractive people really cause?
Well, let me tell you about the moment where history turned on a sixpence.
The god of beauty was walking through a field. The sun hung low, paused in the act of throwing itself achingly slowly upon the distant mountains. As it did so, the spear-top peaks seemed to split it open, spilling rays of gold liberally across the landscape. It was as if everything above and everything below – from rows of wheat to streaks of cloud – had been drawn by some obsessive monk in illuminated gilt.
The god’s name was Sunset. At least, that was their name in that moment. They were, you see, always named after the most beautiful thing they could remember seeing.
Sunset weaved a little as they walked as if tipsy on these burnished, delight-distilled sights. On the smell of autumn dried-grass winds. On the feeling of warm dirt between their toes and long grass tickling their arms.
They smiled a little. They were always smiling a little in those days, but only a little. Smiling because the world was full of wonders. Smiling only a little because they were a wonder themself, and so they could not be truly surprised by it.
Sunset looked around them again. It was often worth looking at beautiful things a second time, for they might turn out to be even more beautiful than you first realised.
It was then that Sunset noticed the workers in the field, labouring still beneath the late-day sun.
Then Sunset noticed the people who weren't working, but who stood in the shade and watched the workers.
Then Sunset looked again to the horizon and saw the castle nestled at the base of the mountains.
Sunset squinted and focused and the world blurred and they saw the people sitting in the castle, eating sweet cakes made from the wheat from these very fields.
Sunset thought about this. They thought about how it all fit together: serf and supervisor and distant lords…
"Well, this isn't beautiful At All. No, no, no, this just won't do.” said Sunset.
Then Sunset stopped smiling, even a little. They saw, in their mind's eye, the way this all must sort itself out.
“It All Has To Go.” said Revolution.
There was no-one who heard them say it. There was no-one who saw the moment they stopped smiling… but I assure you, that was the moment the world shifted on its axis.
The god of beauty, funnily enough, was also the one god they never managed to trap in a temple.
Who, after all, could ever build one beautiful enough to tempt them?
It is said they are the only god who has always walked the world in one form or another.
You could glimpse them, perhaps, on the face of a friend when they saw something perfect and smiled… just a little.
Or you might see them on the face of a cheerful, whistling worker… right at the moment their smile died.
---
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McPhysics
Philomena paced the floor of the lab. “It’s the only thing that will do the trick.”
“Quantum bacon?”
“Of course, quantum bacon. What else is going to attract the right kind of scientists to work here?”
“And who exactly are the ‘right kind’ of scientists?” Akira asked.
Philomena smiled her patient and most patronizing smile. “The ones who believe that all souls were created during the Big Bang.”
“Wait. So souls are made of atoms?”
“Of course. But thoughts are not.”
Akira didn’t take that bait. “Philomena, be real. Where is this all heading? Why do we need so many scientists, let alone all the lab space you’ve leased across the country, for a dark matter experiment that sounds like woo-woo mysticism.”
“Franchising.”
“Franchising?” Akira waited. And waited some more. “Franchising?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to this theoretical physicist.”
Philomena snapped her fingers. “Exactly why we need a new breed of scientists. We don’t want old stuffy classically trained brains. We need much fresher brains as in B-R-A-N-E-S!”
“So, that’s your play. Brane theory. That we’re a 3D brane trapped inside higher dimensional space.”
“The Bulk.”
“I know the multidimensional jargon, Philomena.”
“But you don’t see the opportunity, Akira. The multiverse. It’s an unlimited market. And we can sell in bulk to the Bulk.”
“Sell what?”
“Quantum bacon. Stellar shampoo. Cosmic trading cards. It hardly matters. In a market so enormous, even low volume sales reap incredible profits. It’s called the long tail and we’ll be wagging ours all the way to interdimensional dominance.”
“Are we physicists or pitchmen?”
“Both. We need to be both. Rutherford, Curie, Einstein, Planck, Bohr, Heisenberg, Fermi. They opened the atomic door with no sales experience, no business plan and all it got them were a few measly Nobel Prizes. When we harness fermions to portal into the multiverse, I want to be ready to capitalize on the infinite possibilities.”
Akira contemplated Philomena and the planes--and now branes--of delirious ambition that drove her. He only had one answer. “Quantum bacon.”
“Now you get it, partner. Quantum bacon. The taste of the truly infinite future.”
№ 1,117 | Huffer Ramjet
Huffer Ramjet banks into the turn at speed. He hears bolts vibrating, bolts tightened with a pneumatic wrench that requires a team of two to operate and has to be strapped down itself for safety. Fog creeps in at the edge of his vision. He bites down on the g-force, tastes orange peel and black licorice.
The kaiju on his tail is nasty. It came out of a fissure in the earth and can (absurdly) breathe pure plasma and fly to the moon and back in a day.
But, thank god and his infinite wisdom, monsters don't have braking jets.
a story concerning Huffer Ramjet.
Lily's Mother 7
"Dad," said Lily, "you told me my father was a noble paladin whom you seduced and killed."
Her father frowned. "Hmm? Yes, I probably did say that."
"So then… my father is absolutely dead and buried?"
"It's difficult to say," replied Urnazath. "I never attended a funeral…."
"Is my father tending bar at the Lute and Pillage Tavern, yes or no?" demanded Lily.
The demon sighed. "In that case… yes. Aleks Truehart was your biological father. I didn't kill him, only his career…."
Rot
Remember that you are of earth
And one day, you will return to the earth.
Don’t be sad. Don’t be afraid.
For that is when each and every part of you
Will finally rest, with me.
The worms don’t rob me of my body.
I have no more use of it. It’s not mine anymore.
They take flesh and coagulated blood.
They turn it to soil.
The roots of plants reach out to me, take me gently,
And I let them lap at the moisture that once sustained me.
If I am to be a feast for maggots, I won’t begrudge them their banquet.
I only hope that in death, I can help sustain life.
A Dangerous Journey
"It seems I have no choice in the matter," said the Marsh Wizard.
"I'm afraid not, Miss," replied the bear.
Fern had been surprised when she opened the door that morning, only to be greeted by an enormous white bear.
"Your presence is required at the council of elders. Please come with me this instant," the bear said.
After the shock wore off, Fern demanded to know who the bear was and who was demanding her presence at the council.
"Beg pardon, Miss, I am Brildorn, first secretary to Lord Cartwright, Chancellor to the King. It is he who has sent me to bring you before the tribunal to answer for your crimes," Brildorn said.
"Crimes? What crimes? I have never had anything to do with the bears of Myst Mountain," remarked Fern.
"Be that as it may, you have been charged and will stand before the tribunal this very day. I have orders to destroy this dwelling if you do not go with me," the bear said.
Seeing she had no choice in the matter, Fern grabbed her hat and then climbed onto the beast's back.
"I see, it's been a while since you have bathed," the Wizard chided.
"Sorry, Miss, it's mid-summer, and we won't wash until Samhan, replied Brildorn.
Fern enjoyed the journey into the mountains despite the irritation of being kidnapped.
"We're here, Miss. The council is expecting you," the bear said.
Fern crawled down and headed to the main gate. A guard bear was about to say something but remained silent when Fern shot him a deadly stare.
"Alright, you arrogant furballs, what is the meaning of this outrageous treatment?" barked the Wizard.
"We need your help, and we know you wouldn't have come if we had asked," muttered the Lord Chamberlain.
"So the charges are a ruse?" questioned Fern.
The King rose from his seat, bowed, then spoke. "I am sorry, Fern, for the way we treated you. Knowing your feelings for us and the need for secrecy, I had no other option."
The King explained that the female members of the clan were no longer able to bear offspring. If the rival clans were to find out, they would challenge his leadership, even go to war.
"I understand, and forgive you for the unorthodox manner of my arrival. The last thing we need in Folksburywoods is another war," the Wizard said.
"Whatever it takes, please find a solution to our situation," the King said.
"I'll need two females to return with me to Folksburywoods. We'll say it's for procuring medicinal herbs. No one will suspect anything out of the ordinary," Fern said.
Fern and the she-bears returned to her home later that day.
Fern and her twin Franny investigated the cause of the bear infertility.
"Chokeroot, it has to be chokeroot," cried Franny after examining the bear's hair.
"We cats keep our females away during mating season," remarked Izba, Franny's familiar.
"Why on earth would you bears use such a deadly herb?" asked Fern.
"The root gives our fur a glossy appearance. The males appreciate it during the mating season," the bear said.
The sisters prepared a large batch of worm-wort and told the bears to give each female a hefty dose.
"No more chokeroot from now on," scolded Franny.
With the bears on their way home, Izba suggested tea and cakes, which the sisters agreed to.
"It's times like this that a hot cup of tea and a biscuit sets the world straight again," remarked Fern.
"I couldn't agree more," said Izba, finishing his third biscuit.
"Let's hope this is the peak of excitement for the week, mumbled Franny.
The three nodded in agreement.
Fern couldn't shake the feeling that something new was about to happen. Until then, there was tea.
www.folksburywoods.com
